no8 



^be (Breater Xove. 
©be to Hmmortalitig. 
TTbe H)reamer. 



^brec poems 
artbttr S. Ibowe 



San Jose, Calttornta 
1908 



tTbe Greater Xove. 
©be to Ummortaliti^. 
^be Breamet. 



Zbvec poems 
artbur S. Ibowe 



San Jose, California 
1908 



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iUBKKRY of CUIxdW&SS 
i Two Gopies riecuivju 

I HB 25 1908 
-XOOO IS' 

COPY 8. 



Copyright 1906 
by 

Arthur S. Howe 



PRESS OF HENRY MURGOTTEN 



SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA, U. S. A. 




ARTHUR S. HOWE 



Vo the Dreamers of the World, the men and 
women whose heaven-illumined consciousness has 
enabled them to look beyond the personal and 
particular, and behold the general and universal; 
who, penetrating beyond the mists and clouds 
of the present, can catch the gleams of the rising 
sun of a better day; in recognition of their service 
to humanity, and in the hope and anticipation of 
the dawn of Universal Brotherhood— the glorious 
morning when "the symbol rises into fact," this 
little tribute is dedicated by 

^he Author. 



Zbc Greater Xove» 

^'Greater love hath no man than this: that he lay down 
his life for his friend." 



In ages long gone by, in ancient land, 

The "Son of Man" this law of love declared: 
'* No greater love is known by any man 

Than this: that for the friend whose love he 
shared 
He give his life." Thus spake Palestine's Sage, 

And in the utterance of that beauteous thought 
Stated a truth, of which, in every age, 

Devotion hath the living witness brought. 

Yes, 'tis a price that tests the depth of love 

To lay down life — to calmly welcome death 
For love's dear sake — and thus to willing prove 

Its deep devotion; and with parting breath 
To sing love's song; to count the grave rich gain. 

E'en while life's promise shines forth bright 
and clear; 
To die to earth — to conquer death and pain — 

All for the friend whose love is held most dear. 



But what of those who calmly greet death's hour, 

Unsparredby special friendships — selfish love; 
Whose courage manifests the living power 

Of Universal Love from Heaven above ? 
Is their devotion less, because they die 

For love of all humanity? Are they 
Who hear and feel the groan— the bitter cry 

Of multitudes upon life's weary way— 

And, hearing, do not hesitate to place 

Upon Love's altar, with its heav'n-lit fire, 
Their lives — a sacrifice for all the race— 

With love surpassing passion or desire. 
Accounted less the lover than the one 

Whose aims — whose life — whose all — are cen- 
tered near 
His special loves and friendships —his alone — 

Those dear to him, and those he holds most 
dear? 

Grim souls, whose glorious heights of love can 
reach 

Above the realm of personal griefs and fears; 
Whose depths of feeling, all controlled, can teach 

And wean the suffering masses from their tears; 
Yea, wake them to beget the stronger life. 

Born of a righteous anger, sired by hate 
And christened "Justice;" reared 'mid scenes of 
strife; 

Molded in human passions, grand and great. 



Grand souls, whose love, sublime, unterrified, 

Unmoved can stand, while empires pass away; 
Great souls, who, persecuted, vilified, 

Still dare proclaim to earth the dawning day 
Of BROTHKRHOOD. Who Stand amid the strife, 

And, struggling onward 'mid war's hellish 
glare. 
Proclaim "the Resurrection and the Life" — 

Earth's glad, free morning, beautiful and fair. 

Souls who can realize, and who can see 

The gleam of Freedom's morn; and who can 
bear 
The hatred e'en of those they seek to free 

From tyranny, injustice and despair, 
Souls who seek not for approbation's meed; 

Who, lusting not for popular assent. 
Proclaim the gospel of man's greater need. 

Though institutions fall and states be rent. 

Souls who, with prophet's vision, calm and grand, 

Can gaze into the future, and can see 
Oppression's fetters broken by the hand 

Of Man enlightened, and of Woman free. 
Souls who, enraptured with the vision fair 

Of human liberty, thus to them shown. 
In strong, firm, holy resoluteness, dare 

Tear Superstition from her ancient throne — 



Level her shrines and altars 'mid the dust 

Of empires; shout the doom of Mammon-king 
In thunder tones, while wealth and money-lust 

Still popular homage of the people bring. 
Souls who, unhesitating, can endure 

The hate of those they love and strive to save; 
Souls who, inspired by passion grand and pure, 

March on, unflinching, to the martyr's grave. 

These, then, are those whose love divine exceeds 

The love that lays down life for dearest friend; 
The souls who, feeling universal needs, 

Go on, unwavering, to the bitter end; 
Hated by those they love, and crucified 

Upon the cross of bold Authority; 
Hunted to death, reviled and vilified 

For centuries after — till men shall be free. 

These souls possess the love that knows and feels; 

Which, knowing oneness with all human kind 
(A knowledge which heav'n's light alone reveals) 

Goes forth to lead the world from ignorance 
blind. 
To live for love and truth, and sacrifice. 

If need be, hopes — ambitions — life, and prove 
By their unselfish payment of the price, 

The passion grand — the holy, greater love. 



8 



®5e to Hmmortalits, 



O, Life Immortal ! Thou whose living breath 

Inspires our inmost souls with hope and power; 
To thee, the Conqueror of Decay and Death, 

In humble reverence, we bow this hour. 
Whence earnest thou? And where was thine 
abode 

In ages ere by man the earth was trod ? 
Aye, e'en before the birth of land or flood, 

Thou then existed — and wert Truth and God. 



Enwrapped thou art, and hidden 'neath the veil 

Of mystery. Thy source has ne'er been found. 
Our human knowledge is of no avail, 

Thy secret is so deep, and so profound. 
Thou speakest in the flower and in the stone, 

In sun, in air, in sky, in earth and sea; 
Still is thy secret kept to thee alone; 

Thou Life ! Thou blessed Immortality ! 

Perchance, sometime, when from its earthly home 

My soul soars upward through the realms of 
space, 
I may, in some celestial clime or zone, 

Find entrance to thine inner dwelling place. 
But now, e'en now, this soul of mine I know 

Shall still live on, after its house of clay 
Has perished, and when this brief night below 

Is ended — in the light of Heaven's day. 



XLDc ©reamer. 



He stands upon the eminence that marks 
Man's progress to the present hour. His gaze 
Is backward cast, along the road the race 
Has traveled; and within his soul he feels 
The yearnings, hopes, ambitions, pains and fears 
Of men and nations numbered with the dead. — 
And as he gazes back along the path — 
The rugged, thorny path — that man has trod. 
Forth from its lurking shadows rise the forms 
Of those whose voices, long since hushed and 

dumb. 
Now only speak to those, who, in the hour 
Of thoughtful reverie, turn the pages back 
In the great book of human history. 
And, in the light of retrospect, review 
The struggles of the races gone before. 

They come ! The heroes, prophets, sages, kings 
Of ages past; and in the Dreamer's ear 
They pour the tales of victory and defeat, 
Of joy and pain, of honor and disgrace, 
Which, alternating, form the warp and woof 
Of History's fabric, since the days of yore 
When ruddy Adam was from Eden driven 
Because, through disobedience to the will 



lO 



Of God his master (thus the fable reads) 

He knowledge sought and gained; and in his fall 

From blissful ignorance and simplicity, 

Is planted the first stake that marks the way 

Of man's eternal upward climb toward 

The portals of a better Eden, graced 

By vines of Love and fruits of Brotherhood. 

The ancient shades, springing again to life, 

As History unrolls her magic scroll, 

Press round the Dreamer, and into his ear 

They chant the songs and tell the tales of yore. 

Mingled with lyric strains, that sing the praise 

Of Beauty, deified, immortalized 

By sculptors' art in ancient Greece and Rome, 

Sound notes discordant; and the mufiled Fates 

Chant in their weird and solemn tones the tale 

Of Empire's wreck and Revolution's flame; 

Of dire misfortune, and of bitter wrong; 

Of tortured Innocence, Beauty laid waste 

And human happiness thrown down and crushed 

Beneath the iron heel of Authority 

And Selfishness, enthroned in Church and State. 

From Egypt and from world-famed Babylon, 
From Iran and from Norse-land bleak they come; 
Aye, even from the depths of Ocean's bed — 
Where, buried in the slumber of a dead. 



II 



Lost continent, sleep tales of glory gone — 

The hoary spirits of the past arise, 

And tell of the departed splendor, which 

Went down in cataclysmic wreck, that swept 

From earth the presence of a noble race. 

Leaving "Atlantis" a tradition fair, 

To live in Mystic's lore and Poet's theme. 

Yet, ' mid the strains that chant the rise and fall 

Of long-for^otton e-npires— buried now 

Beneath the moaldering ruins of the past — 

The harmony of Progress greets the ear. 

Anon its tones, melodious and sweet, 

Are mingled with the martyr's dying song; 

And then great Luther strikes a mighty chord, 

While in the voice of bold John Gutenberg 

A strain triumphant sounds; the mighty press 

Is launched upon its mission, and the means 

Of knowledge multiplied a million-fold. 

In Pilgrim's song, on Plymouth's rock-bound 

coast. 
Its strains are heard; then sounding 'mid the roar 
Of Revolution's tumult, ring the notes 
Which gladly herald to the world the birth 
Of fair Columbia. Valorous Washington, 
Great Paine and Franklin bold, their voices join 
With Henry, Adams, Rush and Jefferson, 



12 



While thundering cannon, manned by yeomen brave, 
Sound forth the mighty bass of Freedom's song. 



But once again, discordant notes resound; 

The bitter cry of Afric's dusky sons, 

Held in the bonds of slavery on the soil 

Of fair America, rise high to Heaven; 

And though no shining angel comes to loose 

The shackles from their bruised and weary limbs, 

Their piteous moaning, borne upon the air, 

Is heard by men, whose grand, fraternal love 

Spurs them to action, though the darts of hate 

Are hurled on them by black-garbed hypocrites, 

Who, in their sacrilegious blasphemy, 

Declare that human bondage is the will 

Of a divine creator. Men arise 

Who boldly dare proclaim the rights of man 

Above the mandate of an ancient god. 

The Dreamer reverent stands, while Garrison 
And noble kindred spirits of that hour 
Pass by in grand review; then to his gaze 
The war-fiLags are unfurled, and 'mid the haze 
Of battle's sulphurous smoke and hellish din, 
Above the beat of drum and shriek of shell, 
The Song of Freedom rises once again. 



13 



One gaunt, tall figure stands conspicuous 
Among the heroes of that dreadful strife; 
Called to the state-ship's helm in that dire hour 
Of the Republic's trial, Lincoln stands, 
His kindly face furrowed and seamed with care, 
And his great heart aflame with tender love 
The simple honor of the frontiier youih, 
Now marks the action of the man of state. 

With calm, unw^avering purpose, undisturbed 

By sophist's wile or threat of treach'rous foe, 

His eye still fixed on his ideal grand. 

Brave, firm and resolute, he performs his task; 

And though he fell by the asassin's hand, 

His memory is venerated still 

By countless millions, and his noble life 

Will prove an inspiration to the youth 

Of centuries to come. He lived and died 

For righteous principle; and 'mid the host 

Of heroes, raised up in that trying hour, 

No name shines brighter in Columbia's crown 

Than that of Lincoln, her devoted son, 

Who dared defy both demagogue and priest. 

And wipe the blot of slavery from her name. 

4: * * 



14 



Enraptured by the music of the song 

That chants the deeds of great ones of the past, 

The Dreamer almost feels that here 'tis meet 

To raise a shrine in memory of their names, 

Counting the field of victory fully won. 

But hark! While with bowed head and reverent mien 

He stands amid the spirits of the past, 

A harsh, tumultuous murmur breaks the spell 

That, o'er his soul, the ages' song has cast. — 

The sound of groans and curses, rising near. 

From hells of human suffering and woe, 

Recall him from the dreams of long ago, 

And wake him to the cry of present needs. 

A spirit grim is standing at his side, 

And a stern voice is sounding in his ear: 

"Why stand ye idle? There is work for all." 

It is the voice of he, who, long ago. 

Walked in the streets of old Jerusalem; — 

The voice, that, raised in protest 'gainst the rule 

Of ancient custom and tradition's curse, 

Was silenced on the cross of Calvary; 

But now, his spirit, resolute and stern, 

Stands in its majesty and loud demands 

That once again the earth shall hear his voice. 

"Think ye that human suffering and woe 

No longer stir compassion in my soul ? 



15 



Think ye the spoilers' curse upon the earth 
Less hateful to me than in daj^s of old ? 
Think ye the law of equity I taught — 
'That which man soweth, also must he reap' — 
Has changed? That in the shadow of the cross 
Your souls may hide ? That Justice is asleep ? 

"Think ye my suffering on Golgotha's tree, 

The thorns upon my brow, my nail-pierced hands 

And bleeding side, for your sins can atone, 

While, careless of the suffering and woe 

Of these — my brethren — still ye press the thorns 

Of brutal servitude upon their brows ? 

The altars and the fanes ye rear to me, 

Steepled, and domed, and fashioned by the hands 

Of those who groan 'neath the oppressor's rod, 

Are an abomination in my sight. 

The chanted psalms of singers, hired for gold, 

Are discord to my ears. The pomp, and show, 

And vain lip-service that ye give to me, 

While, on the earth, hell's kingdom holds full sway 

Are mockery and insult to my name. 

"The angels' song of 'Peace, good will to men,' 
Resounding o'er Judea's plains of yore. 
Ye loud proclaim — then in your lives deny — 
While with the yoke of Mammon's golden god 



16 



The suffering workers of the earth are galled; 

And warlike hosts, in glittering array, 

Still desolate the earth, and mothers' hearts 

Are pierced and broken, while the toll of blood 

Is paid upon the crimson field of Mars. 

Ye pray that heaven's kingdom soon may dawn 

Upon the earth, while, in hypocrisy. 

Ye feed the flames of hell, and in your greed 

Drive men and women to perdition's pit. 

Think not because ye cry to me, 'Lord, Lord,' 

It shall avail — for Justice is at hand. 

"The yawning gateways of your factories 

Are entrances to Molech's fearful shrine, 

And tender children ye would sacrifice 

Upon the fiery altar of your greed, 

Cry out to heaven for their deliverance; 

And while ye — stony-hearted — heed them not. 

Think ye the hand of Justice e'er shall stay? 

Nay, for the time of reaping is at hand, 

And harvest must ye reap from all the seed 

That ye have sown. The bleeding, broken hearts 

Of mothers, weeping for their cherished sons, 

The souls of children, crushed beneath the wheels 

Of Mammon's golden car, the tears of shame 

Upon the cheek of beauteous Magdalene, 

All cry for vengeance, and thy day has come." 



17 



The august shade, his fearful message given, 

Fades from the Dreamer's vision, and is gone; 

But louder grow the curses and the cries 

Of millions laboring 'neath the spoilers' curse; 

Now, roused at last to knowledge of their strength, 

The pent-up fury of their passion bursts, 

Even as, after warning rumblings, breaks 

The fierce eruption of Vesuvius, 

And in its awful rain of fire hurls down 

Death and destruction on the slopes beneath. 

Outraged and maddened by their mighty wrongs, 

Their lean, wolf faces — threatening to behold — 

Show ghastly in the light of angry flames 

Their torches kindle; and their curses wild 

Strike terror to the hearts of all who hear. 

The heavens are veined with lightning, and the night 

Of war and desolation closes down. 

Seeming to smother with its hateful pall 

All that is human in the hearts of men. 

Forth from the dens of ignorance and woe 

Swarm greed-cursed toilers, filled with maddening hate, 

While fitful flames anon spring up, and shed 

Their ruddy light upon the sickening scenes 

Of blood and violence; as though, perchance, 

The demons of a thousand hells were loosed, 

To wreak their vengeance on the suffering earth; 

18 



The stifling air is rent with shrieks and groans, 
And War's dread thunders belch forth hail of death, 
Until it seems the ages' promise fair 
Is doomed to perish, and its song to cease. 

But hark! Still, sounding 'mid the clamorous strife, 
The notes of Freedom's glorious song resound; 
Faintly at first, then ringing loud and clear, 
As, led by souls exalted, the refrain 
Is caught up by the teeming multitude; 
Then, while in mighty tones the anthem swells. 
The pall of war is lifted, and behold ! 
The sky, so lately dark with heavy clouds 
And riv'n by lightning's terrors, now reveals 
The rainbow promise in its azure arch, 
Betokening the welcome day of peace. 
Upon the hills and towers the heralds shout : 
"Behold ! The Dawn of Brotherhood is come. 
Foretold by sage and prophet, long ago. 
Rejoice! Now, truly, man hath Kden found; 
Earth is redeemed from strife, and sin, and woe." 



The spirits of the past have flown; but now 
Beside the Dreamer stands a radiant one. 
Clothed in the glory of the rising morn. 



19 



It is the Muse of Brotherhood. His hand 
Is laid upon the Dreamer's eyes, and lo! 
The veil obscuring future vision lifts, 
And a new earth — most beauteous to behold — 
Is now revealed to his enraptured g;aze. 
He sees the age-long struggle ended, and 
Justice and Truth reigning o'er all the earthy 
Where men for untold centuries had knelt 
To worship Custom and Authority — 
Kissing the hand that lashed them, and upon 
Their limbs, in ignorance, blindly forging still 
The galling shackles of their slavery. 

The Dreamer with ecstatic joy beholds 

The pillars of the State Fraternal rise, 

Rearing its grand, majestic beauty o'er 

The ashes of a dead, barbaric past. 

Hushed is the cannon's roar, and in its stead 

A world-wide chorus rises in accord — 

The song-victorious of humanitj-. 

No more the demons Privilege and Caste 

Before the gates of happy Eden stand, 

Forbidding men to enter ^nd enjoy; 

For Caste and Privilege departed, when. 

In bitter, fiery conflict, thundered down 

Both cloister and throne. Their bulwarks gone, 

Downward they sink, to the infernal pit 

Of hell, from whence their hateful spirits came. 

20 



All men now labor for the common weal, 
Toiling in unison, with purpose grand; 
And Science, leaping forth with giant stride, 
Works unheard wonders. Now the arid wastes 
Are made to bloom and blossom like the rose, 
For all are sharers in the fruits of toil. 
No more from hungry, homeless ones goes up 
The wail of agony, while heartless Greed 
Limits the harvest yield, and hoards away 
Earth's fruits from millions of her toiling sons. 
No more do baleful Pestilence and Crime 
Stalk in the cities, for they, too, have fled 
Before the on- march of Fraternity; 
But peace and plenty now, on every hand, 
Proclaim the glory of a world redeemed. 



This is the Dream of Centuries; the song 
That, ringing through the darkness of the past, 
Has cheered the soul of man, and set his face 
Toward the shining goal; spurring him on 
Along the upward pathway, though his road 
Was dark and thorny. This the vision bright 
Oft' sung by poet and foretold by seer; 
The holy cause for whose dear name have died 
The christs and heroes of the long ago. 



21 



And till the hoh^ flame of Brotherhood 

Kindles the altar fire in every breast, 

The Vision Beautiful shall still be seen 

By Earth's great children, and the Glorious Song 

Shall evermore resound, until, at last, 

Its strains shall swell in harmony divine 

The chorus of redeemed humanity — 

Earth's glad hymn of Fraternity and Peace. 



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